Times Change
by White as Sin
Summary: A series of vignettes searching the famous and not so famous people in the magical world, of the unsung heroes and the lurking evils (Update: Serpent's Pride)
1. Matter of Pride

Times Change  
  
~*~  
  
Rating: Anywhere from G to PG-13 and possibly R  
  
Genre: Drama  
  
Summary: A series of vignettes searching the famous and not so famous people in the magical world, of the unsung heroes and the infamous evils  
  
~*~  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Harry Potter universe. I only can credit this to J.K. Rowling, one of the few master storytellers of today.  
  
~*~  
  
Matter of Pride  
  
*  
  
I never asked to be an Auror, really, I didn't. When I was young, I was fixated on the idea of dragons. My parents encouraged me with those childhood fantasies, as ridiculous as they seemed.  
  
Mum always told me, with a particularly tender look, "I want you to grow up to be something YOU are proud of and happy with. But no matter what, I will always be supporting you."  
  
Dad always would drop his quirky little quotes about the house and one of his favorites was a vague, "Never be afraid to tread your own path, no matter how hard it is."  
  
They were so proud when I got accepted into Hogwarts and Sorted into Ravenclaw. I can't say that I had the best grades or was the most popular, but going there was the best years of my life. There were always the typical heartbreaks and pranks of a "normal" teenage life, yet with the elements of the magical world mixed in, hardly anything could be called "normal" at Hogwarts.  
  
When I graduated, I threw myself into scoring a particularly excellent job located in Norway for relocating Swedish Shortsnouts. Unfortunately, I didn't get it. At that point, I was crushed and came back home in shame. Mum patched me up a bit, let me cry my eyes out in her arms, then gave me a sharp slap to push me off in the right direction. She used a contact (one of many of hers) to get me work at the Ministry for a while. Grudgingly, I took the job. Even though it was just paper pushing for a few weeks, at least it paid decently.  
  
Then I happened to come upon a group of Aurors-in-training working in a firing range. I knew a few of them as from school and they called me over. Teasing me in a friendly way, they dared me to try my Stunning Spell for a while. Reluctantly, I did, recalling my days in the Hogwarts Dueling club. I hit the target perfectly every time, gaining a new sense of respect from them as well as winning quite a sizeable meal at a nearby pub to boot.  
  
It became a habit to go over to the firing range to hit a few targets and gossip with them when I had a break. Then one of the trainers spotted me releasing the spells and in a few minutes time had me recruited. Mum was delighted. Dad- well, he just muttered something vaguely and patted my head in a congratulatory fashion.  
  
I was accepted as a full Auror two years after that day at the firing range and was immediately assigned as a partner to Radford, a wry-humored old wizard specializing in investigations. He was an excellent mentor, a lot like Dad, but not as vague, and definitely more cynical and hot-tempered. The three years we were together, he never actually treated me with what could be classified as conventional kindness, being too brusque and caustic for it, but I could tell he had affection for me, as I did for him.  
  
I was actually relieved that he died before You-know-who's uprising. The old man would have probably jumped out from whatever bed he was forced in (due to his rather considerable age) and started hexing as many Death Eaters he could see, getting himself killed in the process. Crabby old bastard.  
  
Luckily I managed to get Dad and Mum into hiding. We had relatives living in China and I smuggled them out to there, on my own insistence. The last thing I wanted was for them to be targeted because of me. By that time, I had a bit of a considerable reputation in the Ministry, and probably on the streets. I had done nearly everything from posing as a possible follower to the Dark Lord to investigating suspects.  
  
Times were getting desperate. We were groping for as many tools as we could, as many weapons we could find so we could avert the poison that was You-know-who. In that desperation, we even started to offer positions to sixth and seventh-years in magical schools, monetary rewards and hasty promises to fill in the too thin ranks of the Aurors. My heart wrenched when we rushed him through a very skimmed down version of the training of an Auror, putting sixteen months to two years worth of training into a very intense six months. It hurt even more to send them out, setting babes against warriors in a desperate attempt to cut down the ever-vast horde.  
  
I was tired that day, having gone without sleep for five days straight. People were telling me I looked like I'd been dragged through hell by the heels and I snarled at them, "What else is new?" I was staggering to my office to try to get at least two hours' worth of sleep, when a trembling secretary handed me a file. When I opened it, I was close to having an apoplexy right there.  
  
A contact had reported a group of Death Eaters and possibly You-know-who about to attack a small wizard refuge on the edges of Yorkshire. That refuge consisted mostly of half bloods and was located close to Muggles. A perfect target for the Dark Lord. Most of the people there had been relocated because of their heritage and because of information they had. But someone in the Ministry had decided to tattle.  
  
Quickly, I assembled a rough team of recruits and a few aged veterans. We looked about and all of us knew, from the most naïve recruit to the most hardened fighter, that not all of us would make it. Frank Longbottom grasped my hand tightly, looking at me with those heartbreakingly guileless eyes. He was the most promising of my recruits, despite his innocent, somewhat bumbling appearance. And he was the youngest of all of us. He saluted me once, before going off, presumably to say his goodbyes to other friends. I only nodded sagely, before turning to my fellow veterans.  
  
They looked at me intently, some old friends, some more recent. Of the original group I had once practiced at firing ranges with in happier times, over half were dead. I gazed at each of them, before stoically unrolling a map of the area and pointing out strategies.  
  
That evening was a chilling one. I bit my lip hard, until I could taste the salt-sweet of my blood. Then I turned to the rest of my group, who were grimly standing, wands out. We all looked like hardened, polished statues of dull granite, the almost-invisible embroidery of the badge of the Aurors upon our shoulders. Gone were the flashy blue-gray robes that we used to wear in lighter times. After some convincing, I got the division to dye all of them a darker blue, almost a sort of navy color (not to mention get rid of the ridiculous flamboyant silver badge we used to wear over our chests).  
  
The air was filled with screams when we got there. Bodies sprawled on the ground, twitching horribly as well as the deep crimson of blood staining the ground. We were given light by the burning buildings all about us and the eerie twinkling of the Dark Mark, a morbid constellation in the dark sky. I shifted into a different mode, when all that mattered was taking out another Death Eater, getting another innocent to safety, and not getting hit in the process. By the time I managed to fight my way into a house where particularly loud screaming was coming from, I was bleeding in five places and singed from where sparks had fallen onto my robes.  
  
I stepped with caution, slipping in with stealth a cat would have envied. The screaming grew louder. I slipped through a dimly lit hallway, following the screaming, which was now accentuated with raucous laughter. A door was ajar at the end and I cautiously looked through the crack. Looking through it, I found the Dark Lord.  
  
He was a poisonously beautiful man. His face was chalk white, ebony black hair framing it in long elegant waves. There was something like a serpent about its structure, especially the jawline and his nose. He was a sculptor's dream and a writer's nightmare, as well as all the horrors of the world mixed into a single being. I immediately wanted to shrink away from him, as an unconscious desire within me wanted to sink to my knees and grovel at his feet. His ruby red eyes gleamed in amusement, not benign, but sadistic, like the eyes of a cruel little boy who had pulled off all the legs and wings of a butterfly and was watching it squirm helplessly under his gaze.  
  
A man was shaking on the ground, screaming in pain. A woman nearby, his wife, tried to struggle free of the Death Eaters who held her. She pleaded, begged for them to stop. Most curiously, she refused to look at a certain corner, close to a back door. My eyes flickered about, and then I saw the eyes of a little boy, peek out from behind a sofa. I knew I should have called for backup, but that would have cost me more time than I cared to risk at the moment. The woman looked at my direction in struggling. I could read her eyes quite clearly. 'Please save my son,' she begged me desperately.  
  
The man on the ground twitched again, and he was still. She shrieked, but I suspected that at least half of it was to distract the Death Eaters. Then she screamed, "Henry, run!"  
  
The little boy darted from out of the sofa and ran for dear life. He managed to evade most of the Death Eaters, who were caught surprised. But one managed to grab his wrist.  
  
"Stupefy!" I shouted. The man dropped like a stone and the boy wriggled free, running out the door. Death Eaters tried to follow, I fired Stunning and Impediment spells quickly.  
  
"Enough." We all froze. The Dark Lord's silky voice sliced through the chaos.  
  
"It appears we have a little visitor to our celebration," he said in amusement. When some Death Eaters fidgeted, at the door and at a loss at what to do about the boy, he said lazily, "Leave him." Then he turned to me. His long, tapered fingers lifted his wand up in the air and flicked it lightly. An invisible hand wrapped about my body and pulled me to him. I looked at him, fingers clenching at my wand.  
  
"Expelliarmus." He had my wand in his hand. A chill washed over my heart, but I felt oddly calm. "I do not appreciate meddlers," he commented conversationally. "Yet this is such a touching scenario. A mother wanting to protect her son. A foolhardy Auror risking his neck in a desperate situation."  
  
He looked at the woman, who looked at him without fear now. She almost seemed to smile. He said softly, "Avada Kedavra." There was green light, and the woman lay dead. She had no look of terror, like most victims; instead, she was peaceful, a smile playing at her lips.  
  
He then looked at him. "Now, what to do with you." I was stoic. Years of training had inured me to this sort of thing. I knew once he came about, we were in greater risk. This was part of accepting the badge.  
  
"Crucio." I was only a web of pain. Dimly I was aware I was screaming as I collapsed, curling into a fetal position and rocking back and forth. Even to scream it hurt. It was nothing like I'd ever felt. The worst pain I could remember, when I had broken three ribs, was only a scratch compared to this. Then, it was over. I lay, panting for breath.  
  
The Death Eaters were snickering, whispering amongst one another. I managed a sneer at them. Voldemort nudged my ribs with a foot. Now I was cracking, I was calling him by his real name. He snapped his fingers and two hulking Death Eaters pulled me up. I met the ruby intensity of his eyes.  
  
"Tell me, why do you do this?" he asked softly.  
  
"It's my job," I answered shortly.  
  
"Why? Why condemn yourself to a painful death or possible maiming? All for the sake of people who would not even be grateful to you for saving their worthless hides?" He touched my face, at the edge of my mouth, where a trickle of blood was coming out. "I can offer you much, much more. Take up my mark and we will all be masters of this world. The impurities will be washed away as the true rulers of the Earth rise up to their thrones. Why not join me? You are a fool to be wasting yourself upon this."  
  
I gazed at him intently. His offer was tempting. In my years, there are people whom I have saved at great risk of my life and the safety of my colleagues, only to get a tongue lashing from them over some trivial matter. Why not join him? My mum's voice echoed, as if from a distance, "I want you to grow up to be something YOU are proud of and happy with. But no matter what, I will always be supporting you."  
  
I smiled as I said quietly, "Because I would rather be a fool than someone I'm not proud of."  
  
The green light is the last thing I see as I fall back, the smile broad against my face.  
  
~*~  
  
I know this is something that I normally wouldn't write, but the idea bugged me until I let my muse guide me. Not Adrian, those of you who read my more recent works, but a different sort of muse. I'm planning on putting up some more of these, but it might take some time. I cannot exactly put a precise number on the stories that will follow this one, but I will do my best.  
  
This story is a probably something everyone can try to relate to. Having a dream that was crushed but finding another that was far better. As for the gender or the identity of the Auror in this story, well, you can fill it in for yourself. I would rather keep that a secret, and keep the essence of the story and the character the central part of the story. Harry Potter was not necessarily the only boy who had family who loved him enough to die for him. Please tell me what you think of this so far. 


	2. Shards

Shatter  
  
------------@  
  
Genre: Angst  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: When life takes your support, you can only fall, as your world shatters. major angst  
  
Warning: Spoilers for PoA, extreme angst, some mature subjects  
  
-------@  
  
I guess that there will always be people who have no hope in their lives.  
  
Like me.  
  
Don't start protesting at me. I've heard it all.  
  
"But it's impossible!" "You have the Marauders at the very least!"  
  
True, true.  
  
But when you let someone into your heart, you have to put down the shield. And God knows that an arrow can slice in.  
  
The problem with having people who care is that, you learnt to use them as support. When they're gone, you're all alone and you fall down an endless chasm. Until you hit the ground and break.  
  
I've been to Hell and back. Angels have saved me. I've known love.  
  
And I've known grief.  
  
It's bitter taste still floods my tongue, the salt of tears mingling with it.  
  
Angels come in the strangest forms, but you know one when you are near one. They may not seem to have feathered wings or halos, but an angel doesn't need paltry things. As I fell, they caught me and flew me up.  
  
I even gained my own wings, but mine were pitiful, dark. They held me when I grew weak, but encouraged me to fly on my own.  
  
Then my angels left, my wings shattered, and I was left to fall. I fell back into despair. One angel died, one was taken as prisoner, one became dark. Leaving me, the demon, without any supports. I fell, and I was alone.  
  
When the anchor of life is shattered, all that is left is glass. Broken glass and blood.  
  
--------@  
  
Adrian: That- was creepy.  
  
Nataku: /nod/ Poor Lupin. /cuddles a Lupin plushie/ 


	3. Serpent's Pride

Serpent's Pride  
  
*  
  
Rating: G  
  
Genre: General/Angst  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Warnings: None  
  
Summary: Slytherin house is just the house of the mean, nasty, standoffish bullies, right? Wrong. An introspective vignette  
  
~*~  
  
Me: /typing away, bored out her mind/  
  
Ken: /looks in, a box of strawberry ice cream mochi in his hands/ Er- Nataku?  
  
Me: /looks up/ What? /irritably/  
  
Ken: /tentatively holds up box/  
  
Me: /squeals, running over to him/ ThankyouthankyouthankYOU SO MUCH!!  
  
Ken:/trampled/ No. problem.  
  
Me:/chewing on mochi and holding two more/ I don't own the rights to the book series of Harry Potter. I'm just a high school student bored out of her skull and resorting to this.  
  
~*~  
  
I suppose that in life, there is always going to be someone to have blame pinned on. Even here at Hogwarts, there's that same philosophy. Gryffindor's are those obnoxious heroes, always charging into some stupid, daring scheme. Hufflepuffs are the so ordinary people, insistent on doing what's "safe." Ravenclaws are those shrewd planners, taking things apart to find out what makes them tick.  
  
And then there is Slytherin house, the evil, malicious villains, to be ridiculed by all. We are like the serpent, unobtrusive, sly, and ready to pounce. Under thin veneers we plot some evil plan to bring the Dark Lord.  
  
Ambition is not evil.  
  
Ambition is the fire that burns the Gryffindors' eyes when they do their pranks, prancing about the hallways at midnight. Ambition is the goal of the sickly sweet Hufflepuffs that makes them work relentlessly on, like the somewhat dim, powerful ox. Ambition is that twitch in the long tapered hands of the Ravenclaws as they come up with their new inventions. Ambition is the sole core of the house of Slytherin.  
  
Many think that all the Death Eaters are from Slytherin. It is far from it. The public would be shocked to find as many Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs as there are Slytherins in the Dark Lord's ranks, not to mention the odd Gryffindor. None of the Houses are "perfect," unlike the delusion of the populace ruled by the concepts of black and white. Black and white, red and green, light and darkness.  
  
The Chinese believe in balance, above all things. The light cannot rule over the dark, and the dark cannot smother the light. All must be in harmony, for in that balance, the world exists. I find it a worthy sentiment, but the Eastern magicks are so different than those of the Western world.  
  
Here, it's completely different.  
  
Here, everyone thinks that there is a direct black and white; everyone is either good or evil. I beg to differ on that account. There is very little "true" evil and same of "true" good. But that is not the way the world is supposed to work.  
  
I must admit; I am not proud of what I once did. But I do not regret where I am today. I may be nothing in the standards of today, but at least I have my pride.  
  
Even when the contemptuous foot of all of man treads the serpent into the dirt, we still have our pride.  
  
~*~  
  
Author's notes: This story was written after reading a very introspective fiction as to the motives of the Slytherin house. My own views of Slytherin are not quite the most positive but I do understand their motives. 


End file.
